Beatrix
Beatrix was silent, seated next to her brother, her gaze wandering over faces, taking in the girls’ words. Hester’s movements were nervous, anxious, and Beatrix’s lips curved slightly. She’d promised to observe, to listen, not to speak. She seemed to have a hard time making people feel at ease—and firmly believed that was not her fault, nor something she should fix.
The girl fretted over the building being a safe place during LongNight—some good that’d done her—and her head tilted slightly. When had Jace’s words ever implied that the building would be closed to the people of Snowcloak? Her lips pursed when the girl called them strangers—she might be considered a stranger, but Jace?
He was more or less raised in Halo. Her foot tapped against the floor, as she averted her gaze from Hester, dark eyes searching the crowd to see if any opposed her brother, as he explained himself. And she continued to stay silent, even if she really wanted to have words with the woman. It wouldn't serve in their interest, in the Academy's interest, if she spoke.
The girl fretted over the building being a safe place during LongNight—some good that’d done her—and her head tilted slightly. When had Jace’s words ever implied that the building would be closed to the people of Snowcloak? Her lips pursed when the girl called them strangers—she might be considered a stranger, but Jace?
He was more or less raised in Halo. Her foot tapped against the floor, as she averted her gaze from Hester, dark eyes searching the crowd to see if any opposed her brother, as he explained himself. And she continued to stay silent, even if she really wanted to have words with the woman. It wouldn't serve in their interest, in the Academy's interest, if she spoke.
Let's see how long you'll last, puppet.
